I’m as ready as a guy will ever be. I decide to go with a button down shirt. AND I even shower. It may be a little rainy out to smell the love in the air, but hey, this is college. Anything could happen.
As you could imagine, I decide explaining this whole experiment to my friends in the fraternity house isn’t even worth it. I’m the only journalism major in our chapter, and they usually just assume I’m off putting myself in potentially uncomfortable situations.
I’m as ready as I’ll ever be. Dressed, hair done, makeup finished. I glance in the mirror one last time. “Breathe. It’s all going to be fine.” I walk out of the room and down the hall. “Here Comes The Bride” begins.
My roommates, Laura and Brianna, snicker as the wedding march continues to play and I walk into the living room of our apartment.
“Today’s the day!” Brianna says. “The sun is shining. You’re going to fall in love.”
Elisa and I were sitting next to each other when Kathryn asked for volunteers to participate in this love experiment. At the time, she seemed as open to it as I did. Besides, I wouldn’t have to worry about sources calling me back or a story falling through. Unless, however, Elisa decided to ditch me on Friday night.
When I mentioned this column and study to my fellow editors and writers at INSIDE, I never imaged that I would soon be recreating the experiment with my co-writer Joe and then writing about it for thousands of people to read. But I am.
When I share my anxieties with my roommates, they offer up no sympathy. Only telling me, between laughs, that I’m going to come out of this having met and fallen in love with my future husband.
“There’s a 1.5 to 2 percent chance that this guy is your soul mate,” Laura jokes. “Do you really want to close that door before it’s even open?”
“Yes,” I think. “Yes, I do.”
I’m chronically late, but compared to my usual tardiness record, I feel like I’m making good time on the drive over.
I wasn’t necessarily trying to be fashionably late. But hey, it’s never a bad way to make an entrance.
I sit at a small table by the door and wait for him to show. I’m as at ease as I can be under the circumstances. But as the minutes tick by I start to get frustrated. “Where the heck is he?” I think to myself. After waiting for about six or seven minutes, which I assure you felt twice as long, I frantically texted my roommates saying, “OMG GUYS HE’S NOT HERE YET. THIS WAS A MISTAKE. WHAT AM I DOING? HE’S NOT EVEN GOING TO SHOW UP.” After my roommates assure me that everything will be fine and that he’s going to show, Joe walks in almost ten minutes late (not that I was counting).
This “date” or whatever you’d like to call it, started better than 99% of my usual rendezvous with the opposite sex. Elisa was sitting at a table waiting for me when I walked into a crowded Buffalouie’s. I hoped she hadn’t been waiting too long for me, but she seemed less than frustrated and actually happy to see me, so no complaints.
When I see him coming in the door a few minutes later, I’m instantly filled with anxiety and relief. I’m nervous for what’s about to happen, but I’m glad that it’s finally going to be over soon.
We get in line to order our food and make small talk. We ask each other about our weeks. I learn that he, too, is an Ernie Pyle Scholar. I’m a senior. He’s a junior. We both studied in London on the School of Journalism’s “Summer in London” program. We both are interested in public relations and magazine. The whole time he seems really at ease, and I just pray that I’m exuding that same confidence.
After we sit down, Joe asks if we should wait for our food or go ahead and get started.
“Let’s just get into it,” I say. “Let’s get started.”
The first question is easy enough. “Given the choice of anyone in the world, whom would you want as a dinner guest?”
I chose Jon Stewart, she chose Mindy Kaling. I’d say that’s a pretty good start
Even with the added pressure of preforming a love experiment, there’s something about the fact that we’re both at Buffalouie’s to ultimately write a story and please our editors that’s more relaxing than a true “date.” So far so good.
I learn that he is really close to his family, as am I. We both share a love for TV. He talks about “The Wire.” I talk about “The Mindy Project.”
On another question, I mention that I play guitar and that I’ve always wanted to play piano. She says she plays piano but always wanted to learn guitar. Straight out of your favorite romantic comedy. Maybe we’ll start a band?
His most embarrassing moment is a drunken make out session with a random girl in a bar. My most embarrassing moment is a time when I confused Christopher Columbus and Marco Polo and loudly exclaimed in a Chick-fil-a that Marco Polo was dumb because he thought he had landed in India when really he was in North America.
I think I can speak for the general population of IU students when I say I wish my embarrassing moment was a historical mix-up instead of, well, you get it.
He tells me about his worst memory, a head injury he received during his freshman year. I tell him about the moment I learned that my grandpa had died during one of my band competitions in high school. Joe shares that the last time he cried was when he found some of his great grandfather’s poems and read them to his sister. I tell him that I can’t remember the last time I cried because it has been so long. I am probably emotionally inept.
Another question asks us to recall the last time we cried. Mine was pretty recent. Hers, less so. I’d like to blame my head injury for why I’m so prone to crying, but I’ve always been that way regardless of cranial damage.
Maybe it’s because I’m still fighting the last hours of my Thursday night hangover, but the compliment section of the experiment is actually kind of fun. Luckily, Elisa is equally as open and positive about the whole thing as I am, and it’s easy for me to point out the traits that clearly make her a great person.
I definitely dish out compliments faster than she does. In fairness, I kind of did it on purpose. But I can’t take offense. I could almost hear Elisa’s inner monologue telling her not to say the wrong thing.
I’m completely conscious of the fact that if I wait too long to answer these questions, it’s going to seem like I can’t think of anything to compliment. But if I blurt out the first things that come to mind, I will probably embarrass myself and give superficial answers. There is no winning in this situation.
We also have to make three “we” statements about each other. Joe starts.
“We are both here not feeling awkward,” he says.
“We were both, maybe, feeling a little apprehensive about tonight?” I pose as a question. I’m relieved when he agrees, turning my question into a statement.
A lot of things surprised me about Elisa. I never would have guessed she’s a pastor’s daughter, or that she grew up in Colombia, South America and her first language was Spanish (even though she remembers none of it). I ask her if she’d ever marry an atheist, and proceeded to have a really great conversation about how beliefs and faith play into love and relationships. We should have our own talk show.
It is now time for the dreaded four minutes of uninterrupted eye contact.
I can tell Elisa is way more nervous for this portion of the experiment than I am. I’ve already told her about a bar makeout and me crying at a book of poetry. Things probably won’t get any worse.
I ask if we should go somewhere else for this, feeling self-conscious about staring into someone’s eyes in the middle of Buffalouie’s, but Joe puts my fears aside saying we should stay. We decide, unlike in the experiment and the column, to talk during the four minutes instead of staring in silence. Joe sets a timer and we start.
Looking back, I kind of wish we just stared in silence. Watching Elisa get more and more uncomfortable was pretty funny. (Sorry Elisa).
I’m immediately surprised that I don’t feel awkward or self-conscious once we begin, but this confidence is quickly squashed by the realization that it’s just ridiculously hard, even if it’s not awkward, to maintain uninterrupted eye contact for four minutes.
I try to avoid looking away my focusing in on one of Elisa’s eyes. After she loses focus once or twice I give her the same advice.
We both look away multiple times and by the end of the four minutes have moved our faces considerably closer together to try to stay focused on each other.
We talk about plans we have once our date is over, how we both want to go to a trivia night sometime. I’m shocked by how hard it is to pay attention to our conversation while maintaining eye contact.
I’m surprised Elisa remembers what we talked about during those four minutes, because I remember her saying “I literally have no idea what we were just talking about.” She must be a true journalist at heart.
And then, it’s over. I admit to him that I don’t remember most of the conversation we just had during the eye contact because I was trying so hard to focus.
“Now, we’re staring at each for so long before breaking eye contact and it’s not even weird,” I say.
“I knew that would happen,” Joe says.
I don’t really know what else to say. It’s weird for this to be over after being so nervous about it before. In a way, it’s an anti-climatic ending to a surprisingly fun and enjoyable evening. I thought there would be some overwhelming emotion or sign of where to go from here. That’s what I thought this experiment was about. I quickly realize this is not the case.
After it’s over, I feel this odd sense of calm and introspectiveness. Kind of like finishing a session on a therapist’s couch.
We gather our things and leave the restaurant walking towards our cars. We talk business about our story, when we’re going to send each other our rough drafts and how we’re going to write. We come to a street corner. Joe’s car is one way. Mine the other. We hug before parting ways.
The hug was the least awkward part of the night. I’d consider that a success in itself.
elisa’s Reflection
It’s now almost a week after our experiment. The only communication we’ve had since our date are a few emails. I sent him the link to a video we talked about that night and we both thanked each other for a fun evening.
At first, the only thing I could think about after our experiment was our experiment. I wondered what he was telling his friends, if he was even telling his friends. I wondered if it lined up with what I told my friends. I wondered what he would write about. I thought about our conversations, thought of ways I could have said things better or more eloquently.
I quickly realized that I had thought after this experiment it would be clear and obvious how we both felt, what we were both thinking. I couldn’t have been more wrong. I got frustrated when I realized that this was like any other potential dating situation I had been in, overanalyzing everything and understanding nothing.
Now, as I’m writing this, however, I don’t really care as much what Joe is thinking or writing. I mean, am I curious? Obviously. But I’ve realized that my feelings about this experience aren’t dependent on anyone else’s feelings about this experience, even Joe’s.
My feelings about this experience are that, no matter the outcome, it’s going to be weird. If something more happens between us, that in itself will be strange. And if nothing happens, that might be even stranger. Knowing that this guy will forevermore be walking around somewhere knowing the deep, intimate parts of my life after this one random evening is a really strange feeling.
Am I in love? No. But I’ve realized that Aron never set out to make people fall in love. He just wanted to foster closeness. Love was an occasional side effect.
JOE’S REFLECTION
More than anything, I came away from that night with the satisfaction that I had made a friend. I could tell some of the topics we covered weren’t part of Elisa’s usual friendly conversations. So in that sense, I felt lucky I had the chance to see a side of someone not every one gets to see.
I stopped by a friend’s house on the way home from Buffalouie’s, and I found myself going on and on about our experiment. I wanted to ask everyone the same questions. I wanted to get to know them as well as I had just gotten to know Elisa.
I’ve always been an open, honest person, so I guess I can’t speak for everyone. But working through Aron’s experiment was an incredibly satisfying experience. It’s a challenge, yes. But once you jump the hurdle of initial awkwardness, it can be one of the most relaxing and easy-flowing conversations of your life.
No, Elisa and I didn’t fall in love, but if that day ever came, at least I would know what I’m getting myself into.
